


The Joneses

by sarahexplosions



Series: The Pierces [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Glee
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Family, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahexplosions/pseuds/sarahexplosions
Summary: Glee/MCU Crossover.  Days after the fall of SHIELD, cousins Antoine Triplett and Mercedes Jones see each other for the last time.  Takes place in-between AOS episodes 1x20 and 1x21.
Series: The Pierces [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527647
Kudos: 2





	The Joneses

**Author's Note:**

> While I was working on The Pierces, a tumblr friend commented about the possibility of Mercedes being the granddaughter of Gabe Jones. I went “holy shit yes” and immediately adopted it into the verse. So this fic is dedicated to tumblr user humanitarianhedgehog! Sorry it’s sad.
> 
> Content warnings: just brief references to canon violence, murder, and death - there's nothing very graphic.

**_Now_ **  
_Los Angeles, California_  
_October 2013_

“I need you there,” Dad says over the phone. Mercedes nods even though it’s the fifth time he’s said that in as many minutes and he can’t see her anyway. “Your aunt, she… she was always looking out for us, always making sure everyone was okay. And now her son is missing.”

“I know,” Mercedes says. There’s a newspaper on her table and her laptop is still on the article she was reading earlier. She knows the rest of the family has also been scouring the reports in hope of finding the slightest hint of Antoine Triplett.

Nobody has heard from her cousin since what happened in D.C. Within hours of SHIELD’s fall, Antoine’s facebook page had been deleted, along with every photo he had ever appeared in. Both his cell phone numbers, work and personal, are disconnected. His email addresses no longer exist. To the world, neither does he. No one knows anything about what happened to him.

Or if he’s alive, Mercedes keeps thinking. She doesn’t want to admit it, but ignoring the possibility is getting harder the longer this goes on. The last time Mercedes saw Antoine he had told her about his murdered teammates. He had thought he might be next. Mercedes knows they can’t be sure he made it out.

(A really, really mean part of her brain has also pointed out that they don’t know for sure he wasn’t Hydra. But Mercedes refuses to listen to it. Antoine would _never_.)

“I should be there,” Dad says. “But I can’t take off work. Rescheduling all the patients, it would be too much. Not unless...”

“I know,” Mercedes says again, trying to stop him from carrying that thought too far. She really doesn’t want to hear about the possibility of her cousin’s funeral. “I’m packing for a few days. I’ll be with Aunt Ashley and Uncle Derek through the weekend.”

“I hate to ask this of you. I know you’re busy. Your record label won’t be mad at you-”

“No, it’s fine,” she interrupts before Dad can have something else to worry about. “I already asked them for a little time off. They’re not like the last label.”

“Okay. Okay, good. Thank you so much, honey.”

“Of course.”

“You’ll update me, right? Let me know what’s happening? I can’t go out there until the weekend, but if I can do something from here, please tell me.”

“I’ll let you know,” she promises. She takes a deep, deep breath. “I’m going to hang up now, okay? I need to pack, my bus is going to leave in a couple hours.”

“Okay, text me and keep me updated?”

“I will,” Mercedes promises again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mercedes. Bye.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Mercedes hangs up her phone and slumps down onto her bed. Takes another deep breath and rubs her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at the SHIELD articles again.

**_Eight Years Ago_ **  
_East Macon, Georgia_  
_August 2005_

Mercedes’s dad moved away from his birthplace of Georgia for college, dental school, and the rest of his life. But every August, Lucas and Renee Jones shuffled Mercedes and her older brother Eli into a car weighed down with suitcases. An agonizing 11-hour car drive later they were surrounded by Dad’s family.

Their other trips to Georgia varied in frequency. Sometimes they spent Christmas or Thanksgiving with Mom’s family instead, sometimes they chose to stay in Lima for spring break. But August was always spent in Georgia. Everyone in Dad’s family went to Georgia in August; it was Granddad Jones’s birthday.

August was Mercedes’s favorite time of the year. Her favorite memories were of she and her cousins, all together, running through Grandma and Granddad’s large house and yard, playing games and talking at the speed of light. It was chaotic in the best way, full of laughter and joy.

And then, while the adults were preparing dinner and cake, Granddad would tell them war stories. The kids would sit strewn about the living room while Granddad told them about his fellow soldiers, the heroes he served with, the victories they achieved.

They were happy, exciting, glorious stories. And, as Mercedes realized when she was eleven, probably fake.

“Granddad’s not _lying_ ,” Eli said. They were sitting in the yard while Uncle Julius was on the grill. Everyone was talking while they ate lunch so Mercedes wasn’t worried about being overheard.

“I never said he was lying,” Mercedes said, straining her head to see her brother’s face. Eli was fourteen years old and growing like a weed. “I said the stories were fake.”

“All those things really did happen,” Eli argued. “You can look them up in the library!”

“But he’s not telling us the whole truth, is he?” Mercedes said. “It was war, it must have been hard. Two of his friends died. But he never talks about the sad parts. That’s what I’m saying; he’s not telling the whole story.”

Then a new voice entered the conversation.

“I think it’s understandable that he doesn’t want to talk about everything.” Their cousin Antoine, older and mature and so cool, was plopping down on the porch next to them and Mercedes…

She was worried that he would be angry with them for discussing Granddad like that. Granddad was a war hero and a retired civil rights activist; he had everyone’s love and respect. Mercedes didn’t want anyone thinking she didn’t love and respect him.

But Antoine didn’t seem mad. He just shrugged and continued, “The war was really rough for everyone. I don’t think he wants to relive it every time his family visits.”

Mercedes frowned. “Is he...?” she started to ask, but she trailed off. She didn’t know what words to say. She knew soldiers had hard times coming back from the war, but she didn’t understand it all at eleven years old.

Antoine smiled. “He’s got a good family. I think he’s doing great.”

“He doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to,” Eli said. He paused. “Right?”

“Right,” Antoine confirmed.

“But he does talk about it. Well, he talks about most of it,” Eli relented.

“He talks about parts of it,” Antoine said. “He must have known we would ask questions eventually. So he tells us what he wants us to know.”

“What does he want us to know?” Mercedes asked.

Antoine looked up at the sky. “That heroes exist. That he did extraordinary things. And so can we.”

**_Now_ **  
_Santa Barbara, California_

The Triplett household is in disarray, but it’s better than it was when Mercedes arrived. The fridge has food in it again. The three baskets of dirty clothes are currently in the wash. Dishes have been cleaned and put back in the cabinets.

Plus, Mercedes had a stroke of genius and put together an email list for the family. It can act as an alert system; the whole family can be contacted the second they hear anything about Antoine. Though so far Mercedes has only reported that there’s still no news..

And because there’s still no news, the living room still looks like a cable news headquarters. Aunt Ashley keeps flipping through the TV. Uncle Derek has both his desktop computer and Aunt Ashley’s laptop on, windows and tabs open to a hundred different sites. Both their cell phones and the landline are on the coffee table, plugged in with the volume all the way up.

They’re not doing well. Mercedes never expected anything different, but it’s hard. When she got here earlier her plan was for everyone to go to the grocery store together to fix the empty fridge situation. Uncle Derek panicked and refused, saying he had to stay home in case Antoine showed up, in case he called. So Mercedes had to convince Aunt Ashley to leave the house without him. It had taken some time.

“He’s not handling it well,” Aunt Ashley had said on their way to the store.

“And how are you handling it?” Mercedes had asked slowly.

“I’m fine,” Aunt Ashley had said, unconvincing. “I’m just glad my father doesn’t have to see all this.”

It had at least been something to think about while they bought food and returned home and worked on tidying the house. Granddad’s death still hurts, but at least he doesn’t have to see how close Hydra came to victory.

None of the Howling Commandos are seeing it, Mercedes realizes now. Gabriel Jones was the last one to pass away. The Howling Commandos are all gone. Except for the Captain himself, Steve Rogers. He’s still alive. The news reported that he left the hospital yesterday.

Mercedes thinks Rogers is probably not handling it very well either. She remembers him from Granddad’s funeral, quiet and lost. She hopes he has friends with him.

Mercedes shakes her head and sets her phone down. “It’s getting late,” she says, partly because it’s true and partly so she can remind herself why she’s here. Steve Rogers is on the other side of the country. Her job is to take care of her aunt and uncle.

Aunt Ashley turns her attention away from the TV. “You want to go to bed? I can get the guest room ready for you.”

The guest room had been Antoine’s old bedroom before he moved out. Mercedes could get it ready herself if she wanted it. Both of these things are besides the point. “I meant that maybe you two should get some sleep,” she says, gently. “You’re probably tired.”

“Oh, I’ll stay up until you want to go to bed,” Aunt Ashley says. “We’ve been switching off sleeping in the living room, so someone’s always by the phones. It’s my turn tonight.”

Mercedes reminds herself that she’s looking at this from the outside. As much as she loves her cousin, her worry is nothing compared to what his parents are feeling. Still, she has a job to do. “I could sleep in the living room tonight,” Mercedes offers. “I’m a fairly light sleeper, the phones would wake me up.”

“Oh no, honey, you don’t have to do that,” Uncle Derek says, looking up from the laptop. “You had a long trip here, you don’t need to sleep on the couch. Use the bed in the guest room.”

“But I’m not a guest.”

It sounds _stern_. Mercedes is a little surprised she could make her voice sound like that. Judging by the looks on Aunt Ashley and Uncle Derek’s faces, so are they.

She’s just so frustrated. She knows nothing, she can’t do anything to find her cousin. She at least wants to do something.

She takes a breath to steady herself. “I’m here as your family,” she says. “I’m here because no one else lives close enough to help, and Dad can’t get here until the weekend. I want to help you share the weight of this, okay?”

Her aunt and uncle look at each other, like they’re having an entire conversation in silence. Mercedes feels she’s stepped over a boundary of some sort, but eventually Aunt Ashley closes her eyes and Uncle Derek smiles at her like he’s about to cry.

“We’d appreciate you sleeping with the phones,” he says. “Thank you.”

So they go to bed. Aunt Ashley and Uncle Derek sleep in the same room since Insight’s destruction. Mercedes changes into pajamas and lies down on the couch.

For a long time, all she can think about is how angry Granddad Jones would have been. But he wouldn’t have despaired. He probably would have walked to Washington, D.C. himself the moment he heard about Hydra and tried to fight with Captain America again, and after he won he would have used all the contacts he had to find Antoine.

She misses him.

She wishes she could do half as much.

Mercedes shoves her head deeper into the borrowed pillow and tries to count sheep. When that doesn’t work she tries to name every song she ever sang in glee club in her head. She falls asleep sometime around ‘Take Me Or Leave Me’, having strange dreams about losing against the Howling Commandos at Regionals.

Suddenly it’s past 3 am and the front door is opening. Immediately awake, she sits up.

And sees her cousin Antoine at the door, staring at her.

**_Five Years Ago_ **  
_The Hub_  
_2008_

“Congratulations.”

Trip looked up from his lunch to see Sharon Carter smiling at him. He burst into a grin. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here,” he said. He quickly stood up so they could hug each other. “On assignment?”

“Just got back,” Sharon replied as she released him from the embrace. “Not sure I can spill the details to a baby Level One, though. How was Academy graduation?”

“Probably less exciting than your mission.”

Sharon snorted. “You might be surprised. Seriously,” she said, “you tell Mr. Jones you’re officially a field agent?”

Trip shook his head. “Got sent here an hour after the so-called ceremony. I haven’t gotten the chance to call him yet.” Sharon nodded. Trip hesitated, then asked, “How’d your aunt react when you got Level One?”

Sharon shrugged. “Nothing you can’t expect. She said she was proud of me and told me not to die. I’m sure your grandfather will say the same.”

“Yeah.” Trip smiled sadly. “Wish I could tell my folks.”

“...Something other than the secret organization thing is keeping you from doing so, huh?”

“They didn’t want me to join SHIELD,” Trip admitted.

Technically they thought he was joining the CIA, but same difference. Dad had been out of his depth when Trip first entered the Academy. Nobody in his family had been part of the military or intelligence agencies, and the idea of his son being in that environment scared him.

Trip had thought his mom would handle it better, what with being the daughter of Gabe Jones. She managed but she kept looking at him with wide eyes. “Is this really what you want to do, Antoine?” she asked.

Nobody at SHIELD called him Antoine anymore. He was Agent Triplett to the organization and Trip to his friends. In a way it felt like there were two parts of himself: the SHIELD recruit, and the regular person, and only Granddad knew that both existed. Or even cared to know.

Sharon probably knew something about that. Her parents hadn’t wanted her to sign up either. But she was currently silent and Trip was just noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

“You okay? I don’t know what you can tell me about your mission...”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Sharon said quickly, shaking her head. “I was just on a stake-out all night, I need to sleep. But I heard you were here and I wanted to congratulate you first.”

He expected her to walk off then, but she smiled at him instead.

“You’re gonna be great, Trip. No matter what your parents say or don’t say. You’ll be good, Agent.”

Her words meant a lot more than what anyone had said at the Academy.

“Thank you, Agent,” Trip said quietly.

_**Now** _

Coulson had asked twice if Trip was sure he wanted to go alone. Trip had insisted he’d be fine. He didn’t think Hydra or the government was going to have their eye on his folks’ place.

Walking into the living room and seeing his cousin on the couch, Trip realizes Coulson may have been concerned about something other than physical safety.

“Mercedes?”

“Antoine, thank god!”

Trip closes and locks the door behind him. He steps further into the room and tries to keep his voice down. “What are you doing here?”

Mercedes is already off the couch. “What do you mean, what I am I doing here? Where have you _been_?” She’s stepping forward and hugging him. “We’ve all been so worried about you!”

Like a light switch turning on, Trip realizes that he’s been operating under wrong assumptions about _everything_. He thought life had continued normally for his parents and family. It hasn’t. They’ve seen the news, they’ve realized that Skye made his digital footprint vanish. They know something’s wrong but they have none of the details.

That’s why Mercedes is here. To support his parents, who don’t even know if he’s alive or not.

Trip sighs as it all crashes on him. He hugs Mercedes back. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey-”

“No, I...I’ve been...”

Mercedes steps away, searching his face. “What happened?”

How can he even begin to answer that question? His mind flashes through the past week: hunting Deathlok, tense moments with Jemma Simmons, the showdown at the Hub, Garrett walking down the hall in cuffs, finding the Providence base, hunting the enhanced stalker, finding Koenig’s body, being attacked by the U.S. Air Force, rescuing Skye...

“A lot,” Trip finally says. “Hey, my parents are home, right?”

Mercedes nods. “Yeah. And I know it’s the middle of the night, but I can go wake them up. They’ve been so worried.”

“No,” Trip says. “I’ll get them.”

He steps past Mercedes and out of the living room, down the hall to his parents’ room. He easily overcomes the instinct to keep quiet and knocks firmly on the door.

“Ma?” he calls. “Dad? It’s me.”

Trip hears both his parents say his name, rustle out of bed, hurry to the door. He hugs them both the second it opens.

**_Four Years Ago_ **  
_Lima, Ohio_  
_September 2009_

Mercedes didn’t know Artie Abrams very well yet, but so far she liked him. He said he liked her voice. And when they were alone, waiting for everyone else to get to the choir room, he would talk to her like they were friends. Maybe they could be good friends one day.

“So, you said you sing at church?” Artie asked.

“Yeah,” Mercedes said. “I’m part of the church choir.”

“That’s cool,” Artie said. “Glee club’s my first time singing, well, anywhere. Except in my room.”

Mercedes laughed, but she found it a little surprising. Artie didn’t sound like he was a beginner. “You have a good voice, Artie.”

Artie grinned. “Thanks. But, uh, I guess glee club doesn’t interfere with church choir?”

Mercedes shook her head. “No, different rehearsal schedules.”

Privately she thought to herself that it was a good thing, too. If she had to choose, she would have stayed with church choir. Glee had the opportunity to be something really special but that wasn’t a guarantee. They only had a handful of members and they were really struggling to get off the ground. Church choir didn’t have any kids her age, but at least it didn’t have Rachel Berry stealing all the good solos.

But Mercedes didn’t have to choose. And she wanted to give glee club a chance. It was a fun opportunity to sing different kinds of music. And maybe make some friends.

Maybe Mercedes shouldn’t have felt as lonely as she did. She had a big extended family and a community at church. But she didn’t always get to see her big extended family, Eli had just gone to college in Indiana, and she didn’t really have friends at school. Unlike at church and family get-togethers, no one seemed to want to be around her. It amazed Mercedes sometimes, how different school felt from the rest of her life.

She already got along with Artie and Kurt and Tina, though. So maybe things were changing and she could have friends now.

“What about your jazz band?” Mercedes asked Artie.

“Different schedules,” Artie said. “And glee doesn’t conflict with AV club, either.”

“I didn’t know you were in AV club,” Mercedes said.

Artie playfully raised his eyebrows. “I am a mystery,” he said dramatically, making Mercedes laugh. He dropped the act and grinned. “What about you, any secrets?”

If she and Artie were friends now, maybe she could tell him. _My grandfather is a war hero. He helped save the world. I feel like I won’t live up to that legacy. I dream of being a star, but I worry my family will be disappointed in me, like I’m letting them down by not being a hero._

No, it was way too soon for that. She didn’t want to open all that up now. Maybe she would never tell anyone what family she came from.

“No secrets,” Mercedes said. “Is AV club fun?”

“Oh yeah,” Artie said. And they talked more and laughed more until the rest of the glee club arrived.

_**Now** _

“Tell me you’re not Hydra.”

Trip stares at his mother.

“ _Ashley_.” Dad sounds horrified but Mom ignores him. She’s the only one who hasn’t sat at the kitchen table yet. Trip sat in the first seat he saw, Dad and Mercedes following behind with cups of coffee for everyone, but Mom is still standing by the refrigerator.

She keeps staring at Trip, refusing to back down. “Tell me,” she says in a firm voice.

Trip’s dealt with this question too many times in the past couple days. He forces himself to ignore his frustration, and his hurt quite frankly, before returning her gaze.

“I’m not Hydra,” he says. “I swear it on Granddad’s grave.”

His mom smiles like she’s in pain. “Thank you.”

The tension evaporates from the room. Mercedes lowers her head and sighs while Mom finally sits at the table.

“Ashley, was that really necessary?” Dad asks. He sounds exhausted.

“Dad, it’s okay,” Trip says. Even if he hates it he doesn’t want his parents to argue over it. “She’s not the first to ask. And she won’t be the last.”

“But you’re not Hydra,” Dad says. “So why...”

He trails off while Trip tries to find a place to start. He knows he has to explain everything. But there’s too much in his brain. He’s never been good at talking about this stuff with his family.

“How much do you know?” he asks, trying to stall. “I’ve been so out of the loop, I don’t know what details are public knowledge.”

“We heard about Captain America taking down SHIELD,” Dad said. “About everything being infected by Hydra, and the military taking over everything.”

“The data leaks,” Mom adds. “We know the big story. But we know nothing about what’s going on with _you_. You’re not injured, are you? You seem to be walking around okay-”

“Not injured,” Trip says.

“We haven’t heard a thing about you,” Mom repeats. “We thought you were dead or arrested or _disappeared_. Why on earth did your Facebook page disappear?”

“It’s a long story,” Trip says, frowning. He’s unequipped to deal with his parents’ panic, but he has to. He may never get the chance again. “You wouldn’t have heard anything about me. I wasn’t at the Triskelion when everything went down. I was on a base overseas when it started. There was fighting but I made it out okay.”

“Jesus,” Dad murmurs.

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” Mercedes says. Trip smiles at her, and she smiles weakly back. He privately thinks to himself that he’s plenty hurt, but he knows what she meant. It’s funny; he hasn’t talked to anyone about SHIELD very much, but he always found it easier to do with Mercedes. For one reason or another.

“But why didn’t you come home until now?” Mom asks. “You’re not hurt, you didn’t get arrested. Why didn’t you contact us?”

Trip takes a deep breath. “I wanted to,” he says. “A lot happened. I don’t want to get into it too much, you don’t need the details.” His parents and his cousin really don’t need to know about Fury’s secret base, for instance, or the lightning stalker, or Skye’s kidnapping, or… any of it. Except. “Have you been contacted? By the government, or the military?”

Dad frowns. “No. We heard nothing.”

“It’s part of the reason why we were so worried,” Mom says.

It’s not surprising; Providence was stormed less than twenty-four hours ago. “I should mention,” Trip says, even though he doesn’t want to, “I’m technically on the run. There was, um. A disagreement with the Air Force.”

They all stare at him.

“A disagreement,” Mercedes repeats.

“Antoine,” Mom says, flat, just one word.

“No one was killed,” Trip promised, “and I wasn’t the one who made the choice to knock them out. I’m just saying it happened, and they’re probably pissed.”

“Oh my god,” Uncle Derek groans. “You knocked out the Air Force.”

Antoine rolls his eyes; the gesture feels unfamiliar. And a little surreal with everything that’s happened in the past week. “Not the entire Air Force, Dad. Like, a handful of them, and I wasn’t the one who did it. But I was somewhat involved, and they might call here. Or at your work.”

“What do you mean, ‘involved’?” Mom demands. “Why on earth would you attack the Air Force?”

“Okay, again, _I didn’t do it_ ,” Trip stresses. “And they were trying to arrest us. The military isn’t seeing distinctions between SHIELD and Hydra right now. I didn’t want to surrender myself, but it didn’t seem like I had a choice, and then two of my superior officers knocked them all out.”

When he finishes the explanation, Trip realizes it all sounds crazy out of context. Mercedes is definitely looking at him like he’s crazy, Dad just looks confused, and Mom is stunned.

“Again, we didn’t kill anyone.” Just in case that got lost.

“You keep saying ‘we,’” Dad says. “Who are these people? People you can trust?”

“Absolutely,” Trip says. “They’re SHIELD-loyal.”

“And how do you know they’re SHIELD-loyal?” Mom asks.

A spark of annoyance overtakes him in a second. “Because,” Trip snaps, “we already saw the one guy who _wasn’t_ murder a guy who was.”

Dad and Mercedes flinch, and Mom looks down at the table again.

The spark leaves just as quickly. Trip sighs and buries his head in his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-...I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dad says, voice wavering. “Antoine, it’s okay to be hurting.”

It’s not okay to be hurting. Trip doesn’t have time for it.

**_Fourteen Months Ago_ **  
_East Macon, Georgia_  
_August 2012_

Granddad looked tired.

Not surprisingly; it had been a loud and busy day full of family wanting their questions answered. Aliens had attacked New York City a couple months ago, SHIELD revealing itself not long after, so the annual birthday get-together had turned into a grilling session. Everyone wanted to ask Gabriel Jones about the invasion and the Avengers, and everyone wanted Trip to spill details about SHIELD.

Trip felt exhausted, and he wasn’t the one turning 94 years old tomorrow. Of course Granddad would be tired.

But Granddad sat on his rocking chair looking...extremely weary. His face was lined with not only wrinkles from a long life but also worry and fear.

When Trip was younger he didn’t think his grandfather ever got scared. He knew better now.

“Hey, Granddad.” Trip gently patted his shoulder before sitting down on the couch. “How you feeling?”

Granddad didn’t answer right away. The smile he gave Trip when he entered the room had disappeared. His mouth creased into a deep frown and he thought for a moment. Then he said, “I got a call from Steve yesterday.”

Trip paused. “As in Steve Rogers,” he said carefully.

“Yep. Wished me a happy birthday. Asked me what my life has been like.”

“That must have been…” Trip trailed off, unable to find the right word.

Granddad snorted. “It was something, all right.” He sounded about as tired as he looked.

“...Are you alright?” Trip asked.

Granddad looked at the television; it was off, but he was still looking at it. “I forgot what he sounded like,” he said softly. “I heard his voice and wasn’t sure it was actually him at first.”

Trip frowned. “That’s not. It was so long ago.”

Granddad shook his head. “I think I’ve forgotten what they all sounded like. Even Jacques, and he just passed.” He took a shaky breath. “Even your grandmother. I feel like I’m forgetting what her voice sounded like.”

Trip couldn’t think of what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Antoine. I just…”

Granddad stopped off for a moment, staring into space, apparently unable to find the right words. It happened sometimes. Trip knew part of it was just him getting older, but right now, it was just overwhelming emotion.

“Steve is going to join SHIELD. Officially,” Granddad added. Trip nodded; he wasn’t surprised, wouldn’t have been even if he hadn’t heard the rumors floating around the Hub. “He told me, and I was. Inside, I thought, ‘well I guess I am, too. I got my captain’s orders, it’s time to go.’ It was this gut feeling of knowing. Follow him everywhere. And then I remembered he’s not my captain no more.”

Trip turned the thought over in his head. “He’s kind of still your captain.”

“No,” Granddad said, shaking his head again. “I mean, he’ll always be in my head. But I’m too old to follow him now.”

Trip forced a smile. “You’re not so old.”

Granddad rolled his eyes. “I’m ninety-three, kid, I’m old.”

“Ninety-four tomorrow,” Trip conceded.

“See? So old I don’t know how old I am.” He laughed a little to himself. “I can’t walk ten feet without hurting. Can’t remember the last time I really worked. I know Carter would still be working if her brain hadn’t quit on her, but that ain’t me. I wanted retirement. Wanted to breathe. Now I’m old and can’t do a damn thing to help a friend.”

“That’s not your fault, Granddad,” Trip said. “Rogers was literally frozen in ice for sixty-some years. There’s no precedent for that. You couldn’t have known he survived. You couldn’t prevent him...basically traveling through time. You don’t have to feel guilty for living.”

“I still can’t help him.” He nodded towards the next room, where some of the family members were finishing cleaning up after dinner. “Can’t help anyone. Don’t know the first thing about the Avengers or SHIELD, or whatever. Everyone wants to know. What do I know? Haven’t been a part of that for a long time. I got nothing.” He took a deep, long breath and let it out. “Geez, I’m sorry, kid. Don’t mean to lay this on you.”

“Granddad,” Trip said immediately, because he wasn’t going to let that thought continue. “I don’t mind. I really don’t.”

He smiled a little bit. “Good. ‘Cause I ain’t got anyone else to go to. No one gets it. They’re all gone.”

“To be fair,” Trip said, “I wasn’t around in the forties.”

“Nah, but you get it. That’s good enough.” Granddad took another breath and cleared his throat. “So really, how’s SHIELD? No one else is here, you can tell me the truth.”

Trip huffed a laugh to himself. Granddad said his brain wasn’t what it used to be, but he could still tell when Trip was sugarcoating to his family. “The truth is that it’s in chaos,” he admitted. “No one was prepared for from New York and we’re still reeling from it. Even my C.O.; he’s pretty unflappable, but he doesn’t know what to make of things.”

“No one does,” Granddad said.

“No one does,” Trip agreed.

“I worry about you, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m proud as hell of you, too. But I worry.” He nodded towards the next room again. “They worry too.”

Trip allowed himself a small smile. “I know.”

Granddad nodded, and silence fell for a moment. Trip watched as his grandfather’s face fell back into a frown, thinking about memories and feelings Trip could never touch.

“I’ll try to keep the subject off this tomorrow,” Trip said. “We’ll talk about Mercedes. She just moved to Los Angeles. That’s easier to talk about, right?”

Granddad pursed his lips. “Those industry people better be treating her right.”

“You can ask all the questions about it you want tomorrow,” Trip said. “It’s her turn to be grilled. And you can jeopardize all the time with Naomi.”

“She’s my great-granddaughter and it’s my birthday,” Granddad said with a little smile. “I’ll hold her as much as I want.”

“Tomorrow,” Trip said. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. You sleep well, too.”

Trip stood up from the couch. But instead of leaving the room, he found himself staring at the picture on the wall from 2006; Grandma with her oxygen tank and a Santa hat, Granddad laughing at something or other. Trip didn’t remember the details, he just remembered feeling full of joy and love for his grandparents. Those feelings still remained.

“You know I’m proud of you too, right?” Trip found himself saying. “Because I am. I’m proud of you, Granddad.”

It felt weird to say it, and he wondered if he should have at all. But Granddad stared at him and slowly started to smile. “Thanks, kid. Hit the sheets.”

Trip nodded and gently patted him on the shoulder as he walked out.

**_Now_ **

“Your commanding officer?” Aunt Ashley says softly.

“My old team must have found out about him,” Antoine says. “I was too dumb to put it together, so I got to live.”

“Honey, no,” Aunt Ashley says. “That’s not on you.”

Antoine doesn’t respond.

Mercedes looks down and wishes she weren’t here. She doesn’t belong at this table talking about betrayal and guns and guilt.

She tries to tell herself that everything is over and what they got what they wanted: Antoine is back and safe and okay. But she knows it’s not okay. Antoine’s not okay. How could he be? Mercedes wouldn’t be, if it was her.

“It wasn’t just you,” Uncle Derek says. Like if they talk enough, Antoine will believe them. “A lot of people trusted him, right?”

“A lot of people who didn’t directly report to him, sure,” Antoine says, voice cold. Then he winces and rubs his face with his hands again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just-”

He cuts himself off and falls silent. He seems so far away on the other side of the table.

Aunt Ashley puts her hand on his shoulder. “Baby, you’re with us. You don’t have to be anything. You can be angry and guilty and whatever else. You don’t need to hide from us.”

Antoine’s shoulders tense and release. Mercedes finds herself wiping tears from her eyes. So much pain and misery and she can’t do a thing about it. At least when Finn died, she didn’t feel responsible for her friend’s death. Antoine doesn’t have that luxury.

“Your mom’s right,” Uncle Derek says. “You’re home. You’re safe here.”

Antoine shakes his head. “I don’t think I am. If the military found out I was here they’d come. I don’t blame them, the circumstances don’t exactly look great.”

“But you’re here,” Mercedes says. “You’re home. And you got your family now. We’re going to do whatever you need to help.” Because she might not know much about being a spy, or whatever happened this past week, but she knows her family. She knows her cousin, and her aunt and uncle, and everyone else. They’re going to help him; it’s what they do.

Antoine looks at her and smiles. “Thank you. I...thank you. I was hoping you would say that.”

“We got you,” Aunt Ashley says. She leans in to kiss his cheek. “First things first; a lawyer. I’ll take care of it. My firm doesn’t deal with this kind of thing, but I know people who know people. We’ll find a good one first thing in the morning.”

“We should get a counselor,” Uncle Derek says. Aunt Ashley nods in agreement. “Or a therapist. Whatever. Just, someone you can talk to about this.”

Mercedes nods before looking back to her cousin, and his face looks. Blank. Like he’s not quite comprehending what they’re saying. But her aunt and uncle don’t seem to notice.

“We don’t have to talk about everything right now,” Aunt Ashley says. “It’s late, you probably want to rest. But we’re going to figure this out, okay? We got you.”

And then, finally, Antoine shifts. His face settles into a grim, resigned, determined statue. Mercedes prepares herself for whatever bomb he’s about to drop.

“Actually,” Antoine says. “I wanted to ask to borrow Granddad’s suitcase. Of the Howling Commando tech. We need to keep ourselves off the grid.”

Aunt Ashley is frozen. Uncle Derek frowns. “But-”

“Dad,” Trip says, cutting him off firmly. “I’m not staying. I’m going back.”

**_Eleven Months Ago_ **  
_Macon, Georgia_  
_November 2012_

Funerals were hard.

Granddad’s was really hard.

It was especially hard for Mercedes’s father. Dad might have been practical, but he wasn’t cruel or unfeeling, and Mercedes couldn’t imagine how it felt to lose a parent. Mom had come to Mercedes and Eli and asked them to help her during all this, make sure he wouldn’t be alone. So Mercedes sat next to her father, occasionally rubbing his arm, while he and Uncle Julius swapped stories they’d told a hundred times before.

Everyone told stories and smiled and laughed, but it was all tinted with loss. Even as they counted their blessings (“he lived a long, full life”, “he was such a great man”, “we knew it was coming, we all had our chances to say goodbye”) everyone was still mourning Granddad.

Well, that’s what funerals were.

Antoine walked up, said hi to them all, and then said “Mercedes, could you help me out for a moment?”

Mercedes took a short look at Dad; he was with his brother, he wasn’t alone. He would be okay for just a little bit. “Okay,” Mercedes said, and then told her dad, “hey, I’ll be right back.”

“I’m fine,” Dad said, smiling a little. “Go help your cousin.”

Antoine led Mercedes upstairs. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, frowning just the tiniest bit. “I just...well, Captain Rogers is here.”

Mercedes blinked. “Captain Rogers. As in…”

“Yes, that Captain Rogers. Unless I’m supposed to be referring to him as Agent Rogers, because he is technically employed by SHIELD now.”

“...Wow.” Mercedes couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Um, wow. Aunt Ashley invited him?”

“Yeah. She wasn’t sure if he would show up, though. And now he’s standing in a corner looking damn uncomfortable, so someone has to go greet him, and I don’t want to do it alone.”

“And you chose me?” Mercedes asked. That was ridiculous. Like she had anything to say to Steve Rogers.

Antoine looked at her, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, girl. You’re polite and give us a great segue to talk about something not related to superheroes.”

Mercedes decided not to fight about it, even though it still sounded stupid. It was just weird. Once the official word got out that Steve Rogers was still alive Mercedes had immediately started daydreaming of Granddad inviting him over for supper sometime when she was in Georgia, so she could meet him. Of course she wanted to meet him, her grandfather’s old friend and a hero and a living legend.

If only it wasn’t happening like this. Mercedes spotted Steve Rogers once they got upstairs, holding a glass of water and living up to Antoine’s description of ‘looking damn uncomfortable’. He looked just like anyone else might at a funeral, but Mercedes knew there wasn’t a huge precedent for this, attending a friend’s funeral via ice time travel.

This was the world she lived in now, a world where aliens invaded and Granddad was gone and Steve Rogers stood alone at his funeral. She didn’t like it.

Antoine’s face looked torn until he finally sighed and stepped forward. Mercedes followed. “Agent Rogers?”

The Captain looked up, expression unreadable.

“Agent Triplett, Level 5,” Antoine said. He held out his hand. “Gabe Jones’s grandson. Thank you for coming.”

Rogers smiled, sad but genuine, and shook Antoine’s hand. “Gabe told me one of his grandkids was in SHIELD. It’s nice to meet you. And...I’m sorry for your loss. He was. He was a good man.”

Mercedes smiled despite herself. Heartbroken as she was, she wanted everyone to remember Granddad as he was.

“He always spoke highly of you, he’d be happy you’re here,” Antoine said, and then gestured to Mercedes, who tried not to startle. “This his granddaughter, my cousin, Mercedes Jones.”

Mercedes had wondered if she should say ‘thank you for your service’ or ‘it’s an honor to meet you’, but in the moment she just repeated Antoine’s words. “Thank you for coming,” she said, and shook Rogers’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Rogers said. “Are you, uh, are you an agent as well?”

There was a little sting of hurt, like that was supposed to be the truth. But mostly Mercedes just chuckled a little. “No, sir.”

“She’s been signed to a record label as a backup singer,” Antoine said proudly. “There’s a possibility she’ll get a contract for her own album soon, though.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Mercedes said automatically.

And heaven help her, Rogers actually looked interested. “Really? That’s great. Are you working around here?”

“No, I’m living in Los Angeles. I moved there from Ohio a few months ago after I got signed.”

“That’s great,” Rogers said again. He was actually smiling a little. “What kind of music are you recording?”

Maybe Antoine had been right about the importance of talking about something other than superheroes. Half an hour later Mercedes had explained how parts of hip hop had evolved from the jazz and big band music of the thirties and forties, and Antoine had introduced Rogers to Aunt Ashley and a dozen other family members, and Great-Aunt Ginny was talking to him very seriously about how much she hated Washington, D.C.. Mercedes sat next to Antoine on the couch and watched Rogers smile with amusement at the woman’s rant.

“You did a good job,” Mercedes told her cousin. “Granddad wouldn’t have wanted him alone. He would have wanted him drawn into the crazy of our family.”

“I just hope I was correct in addressing him as Agent Rogers. I seriously don’t know the protocol there.”

“He’s Captain America, he’s kind of defying protocol just by being here.”

Antoine snorted. “True.” He smiled over at Rogers frowning in confusion and bewilderment at Great-Aunt Ginny’s dislike of the Times Square New Years’ Ball Drop. “Our family really is crazy.”

“The craziest,” Mercedes confirmed, and somehow despite it all she found herself beaming.

_**Now** _

“No way,” Dad says.

“Dad-”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Dad’s voice is getting louder. It’s strange; he rarely raises his voice. “Don’t ‘Dad’ me. You’re not leaving, you’re not going back to that. You’re staying right here.”

Trip smiles wryly. “Sorry, Dad. You can’t ground me anymore.”

“We thought you were dead!”

Mom closes her eyes. Mercedes is crying again.

“I thought my son was dead,” Dad says, voice loud and cracking. “And I know I said I accepted that possibility when you first joined up, but I’m a big fat liar. I’m not okay with it. You’re my son. What kind of father would I be if I sent you back?”

Trip knows he can’t allow himself to be swayed, to care about his father’s feelings in this. It’s harder than he thought it would be. “I’m sorry,” he says again, sincere this time. “You don’t have a choice in this.”

“But you do,” Dad says. “It’s your choice. Choose to stay.”

“I can’t.”

Mom is crying too now. But both she and Mercedes are silent. They probably know fighting is pointless. Dad probably knows, too, but he’s fighting anyway.

“I can’t turn away from this,” Trip says. “What kind of father would you be if I left? What kind of man would I be if I stayed? Hell, what kind of grandson? What would Granddad say if I-”

“ _Forget_ your grandfather!”

It’s like an earthquake hits the room; all four of them, even Dad himself, jump at it. Mom looks shocked, Mercedes looks scandalized, and Trip feels… he doesn’t know, anymore, how he feels.

Dad lets out a harsh breath. “I know I shouldn’t say that,” he says. “Look, I loved my father-in-law. I respected the hell out of him. But this is nothing he ever dealt with. And you’re more than just somebody’s grand kid. You’re more than a legacy, and it’s not your responsibility-”

Trip abruptly realizes what he’s feeling is anger.

“It **is** my responsibility!” he shouts.

Dad stops. He looks stricken.

“My commanding officer is out there wreaking hell on the world!” Trip grasps his own shirt. “My commanding officer. My organization, my people, dead. It’s my responsibility to fix it. I chose it! I chose it when I signed up, and yeah, I did it because of Granddad, but _I chose it_. I can’t walk away, I don’t get to, and I don’t want to.”

Trip falls silent. The whole room falls silent.

He feels like he did when he screamed at Garrett just a few days ago. The Hub was in chaos, Garrett didn’t even look at him, but Trip screamed I trusted you! and it felt like he was the only person in the world. It feels the same way now, like everyone else is just an illusion and Trip is the only one who exists.

Reality snaps back into place as Mom rises from her chair. She doesn’t say a word as she leaves the room. Trip and the others stare after her until she returns, holding Granddad’s old Howling Commandos case in her hands.

“Don’t let me down,” Mom says.

Well, the rest of the room is crying. Trip might as well join them.

“I won’t,” he promises. “Never.”

Mom nods. “I know.”

**_Two Months Ago_ **  
_East Macon, Georgia_  
_August 2013_

“How’s it going?” Trip asked.

“Almost done,” Uncle Julius said from his spot on the floor, digging through his toolbox.

“You said that twenty minutes ago,” Uncle Lucas said beside him, rolling his eyes. “Just let me call a repair guy and be done with it.”

“It’s fine,” Uncle Julius insisted, “I got it.”

“No, you really don’t. Just call someone, we’re all gonna melt-”

“It’s a waste of time and money, I got it-”

One of Trip’s old instructors at the Academy had once told him to recognize when retreat was the best course of action. So Trip stepped out of the room quickly and quietly, and went back to the kitchen, where everyone was shoving ice cubes in their drinks.

“I’m guessing no good news,” Trip’s cousin Sara said.

“You guessed right,” Trip replied. At least half the room groaned in unison. “They were arguing over whether or not to call someone.”

“Let me guess,” Sara said, “my dad is against it.”

“You guessed right again,” Trip sighed.

Sara rolled her eyes and took a sip of her ice water. “Ever since he found out he got the house in the will, he’s been a control freak over it,” she said to him. “He feels guilty over it.”

“But the house was always going to go to him,” Trip said. “Uncle Julius is the only one of the kids who lives in the area, it just makes sense. Mom and Uncle Lucas agreed.”

Sara shrugged. “So? He’s an idiot.” She stopped and sighed. “Sorry. I’ll be more sympathetic once the air conditioning comes back on.”

“We might melt before then,” Trip said, trying to joke. “Naomi okay?”

“She’s fine, Mercedes is watching her.” Sara took another sip of water and stayed quiet for a long moment before setting her drink on the table and standing up. “Screw it, I’m going down there.” Trip watched her walk away, kept that old advice about retreat in mind, and did not follow.

Instead he went to the next room where Mercedes was playing with Naomi. At about 18 months, Naomi was still excited over everything. She was currently playing with a baby light-up piano set, stopping every so often to giggle about it.

It was a cute image, and yet, it felt empty. Trip hadn’t expected the annual family get-together to feel the same with Granddad gone, but the lack of him still hurt. Lots of things were hurting nowadays.

Trip pushed the feeling away. “Naomi!” he said enthusiastically. The little girl turned to him, grinning. “You’re gonna be a musician!”

“Oh, for sure,” Mercedes said. “Judging from what I’ve heard today, she’s also going to be a dancer, a runner, a vet, and a cook.”

Trip laughed and sat down next to her on the couch. “She’s gonna be busy.”

“Right now, I just want her to be a mechanic. Maybe _she_ could fix the air conditioning.”

“That’d be nice. I miss the jet.”

“Jet?”

“The jet we use for travel,” Trip explained. “Climate-controlled. Nice and cool.”

“Man, does that sound nice,” Mercedes said with a sigh. “You know, two of my friends are in Hawaii now. They texted me a picture from the beach and I wanted to jump through the screen and into the water.”

Naomi stood up from the toy piano and walked over to them. Both Trip and Mercedes held out their arms to her, but instead she just walked back to the toys. They laughed and watched the little girl start playing with a stuffed bunny.

“I heard about your friend,” Trip finally admitted, not looking at his cousin. “I’m sorry. Losing friends is always hard.”

“Thanks,” Mercedes said. Her voice sounded heavy. “It’s...yeah, it’s been hard.”

Naomi put the bunny down and picked up a light-up ball. Mercedes smiled sadly.

“It wasn’t too long after Granddad died,” she said. “And at the funeral I just kept thinking, you know, ‘again?’ Which is silly, there were like, months in between-”

“It’s not silly,” Trip interrupted, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Every time you lose someone, it’s too soon. Every single time.”

Mercedes stared at him. It was quiet for a long moment before she asked, quietly, “You’ve lost friends?”

He had planned on keeping his mouth shut about it, but Trip couldn’t remember why at the moment. He took a slow, deep breath. Then he said, “My team members. Killed over the last couple months.”

Mercedes eyes went wide. “Oh, Antoine, I’m so sorry.”

“I haven’t really dealt with it,” he admitted. He tried to keep his voice quiet; even if Naomi couldn’t understand what he was saying, it felt wrong for her to hear it. “Or told anyone. And my commanding officer only knows how to deal with death through inappropriate jokes, so I’ve just been. Keeping it to myself.”

Mercedes put her hand over his. “You can’t,” she whispered. “Keep it to yourself, I mean. I don’t want to push you, but you know you can’t.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Trip whispered back. “If we keep looking for this guy, it’s only a matter of time until I’m the next target.” He looked away from her, refusing to see her panicked expression. “And I can’t stop looking for him. I can’t. Not after I lost them. Not after I told my mate’s kid his father was gone.” He shook his head. “I can’t stop.”

There were tears in Mercedes’s voice when she spoke. “I’m so sorry. If there was anything I could do-”

“You’re doing it,” he said. “Being here. Taking care of people. Following your dreams.”

“That’s not actually doing anything,” she protested. “I’m a singer, what does that matter?”

There was something about the way she said it that felt like she had been waiting to say that for years.

“Of course it matters,” Trip said, turning towards her.

“It doesn’t. It’s pointless being on stage when you’re facing life and death and the whole world is crazy. I can’t help you. I can’t do anything.” She sniffed and shook her head. “Some family I am.”

Trip forced himself to smile at her even as she cried. “It matters,” he said. “It matters a lot. You know, one thing I learned becoming a secret agent? Not everybody can do it. And not everybody _should_ do it. I need people like you to keep living. The entire point of doing what I do is so other people can be safe. So my family can be happy, and you can be a singer, and Naomi can be a, a, dancing-cooking-pianist.”

Mercedes laughed wetly, and Trip found himself doing the same.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I made the choice a long time ago. And I’m okay with it.”

“It’s still hard,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he agreed, hugging her close. “But I’m okay with that.”

Mercedes took a deep breath against him, and only pulled away when they heard Naomi coming towards them. She looked upset. She knew something was wrong.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Mercedes said. This time when she held out her arms, Naomi walked into them and let Mercedes pick her up. Mercedes settled her into her lap. “You’re okay. We’re all okay.”

Trip smiled. He didn’t see Naomi often enough, not with his schedule, so he needed to enjoy the time he got. “Hey girl,” he said, waving to her. She was cuddled against Mercedes, letting herself be comforted, not looking quite so upset anymore.

“That’s Antoine,” Mercedes told her. “Your mama’s cousin, like I am.”

“You remember me?” Trip asked her. “It’s been a while, it’s okay if you don’t.”

“He’s following in your great-grandfather’s footsteps,” Mercedes continued, her voice still wet. “We worry about him. But we’re so proud of him, and we love him so much.”

Trip forced himself not to cry. Instead, he held out his hand to his cousin’s daughter, and waited until she reached back.

_**Now** _

They’re gathered at the front door. Antoine has Granddad’s case in one hand and a duffel bag around his shoulder. It’s filled with clothes and extra toothpaste and a case of muffins Mercedes had bought at the store yesterday.

Mercedes doesn’t know the people he’s with. Hopefully they’ll eat the muffins.

She doesn’t know what the hell she’s supposed to do.

A couple months ago Antoine told her that not everyone can be a superhero. That she shouldn’t feel guilty for all the things she’s unable to do. It’s hard to remember when he’s more or less leaving to go to war.

It’s quiet. Her aunt and uncle stand by each other and Antoine faces them, none of them saying a word.

Mercedes tries to do what Antoine needs.

“Contact us,” she says. Antoine turns to her. “I know you’re going to be busy. But every once in a while, find a way to let us know you’re okay. We’ll let everyone know.”

Antoine smiles at her. “Okay, Mercedes. I will.”

“Be careful,” she says. She’s representing the entire family here, she knows that, and she struggles to fit all her words in. “Do what you have to. Go fight them. And then come back.”

He nods solemnly. “Okay.”

“We’re so proud of you,” she cries. “And we love you so much.”

“I know,” he says, “I know,” and he sets the case down to hug her close.

Mercedes holds onto him tight, for as long as she can, until he pulls away. She instantly wishes she could hug him more.

But Antoine is embracing his dad, both of them apologizing for yelling, promising they love each other, and it’s not about her. She can’t hold Antoine here forever, no matter how much she wishes he didn’t have to leave.

Antoine hugs his mother next. “What your cousin said,” Aunt Ashley tells him. “Just...everything Mercedes said.”

“She knows what she’s talking about, huh?” Antoine says. Mercedes laughs a little as he hugs both his parents at once. And then he lets go, and picks Granddad’s case back up. “I love you.”

“We love you too,” Aunt Ashley says immediately. “So much.”

Antoine beams at all of them, eyes still wet. He taps off a two-finger salute with his free hand.

And then he walks out the door, and he’s gone.

Mercedes wipes her eyes with her hands. She feels drained and tired. So tired.

Uncle Derek lets loose a shaky breath. “He’s never coming back, is he?”

“Don’t,” Aunt Ashley says. “We don’t know.”

Mercedes tries to tell herself her uncle is wrong.

She leaves them at the door heads back to the couch. She needs to write an email to the rest of the family. She’s already composing it in her head: _Antoine is alive and safe. He came home and we saw him in person. Unfortunately…_

She doesn’t know how much she’ll be able to say. The government will track their emails, right? She’ll have to warn everyone to be careful. But Antoine’s alive, they have to know that.

Mercedes mimics Antoine’s two-finger salute to herself, and gets to work. She’ll do what she has to do. They both will.

**_Eight Months From Now_ **  
_Atlanta, Georgia_  
_June 2014_

The last time Trip is in Georgia, he won’t even touch his feet to the ground.

Trip and May will spend most of their time in the quinjet in silence. The hunt for Ward is personal and neither of them will be up for chit chat. They’ll only listen as Ward makes Bobbi, threatens her and the lives of maybe 35 civilians, and changes to the Beantown bus.

But after Hunter goes radio silent, after the bus leaves, Trip will find himself looking over the clouds and landscape of his family’s state and find himself unable to keep it inside.

“I was born here,” he’ll say. “In Atlanta.”

“Your family is from Georgia,” May will say, not a question.

“Yeah. My parents lived in the city before they moved to California. Granddad is buried about ninety miles south of here.”

May will nod; of course she knows about Trip’s family. It’s just hard to talk about when they’re constantly on missions. “Never had the honor of meeting your grandfather,” she will say. “Director Carter seemed to be fond of him though.”

“He was fond of her too. Always told stories about her.”

May’s mouth will quirk up into the tiniest smile. Trip will find it comforting, thirty thousand feet above the world, to have her with him.

“If we had time I’d stop by his grave,” Trip will say quietly. “It’ll have to wait for another time.”

“Another time,” May will repeat.

Trip will put Granddad and his family out of his mind as he checks their fuel reserves. He won’t have the time to think about them. The mission will always take precedence.

But they will always be with him. The legacy he carries isn’t conscious, it’s simply there, in his thoughts and choices.

Trip will continue to do what he believes in. It’s what his family taught him.

**Eleven Months from Now**  
Lima, Ohio  
September 2014

After Antoine’s funeral and finishing the mall tour, Mercedes will return to Lima. Not forever, but for long enough. She will help Rachel get back on her feet and help the glee club start again.

She won’t tell her friends how her cousin didn’t have a body to bury. How the closed casket was filled with _fragments_.

Sometimes she’ll remember it and have to go somewhere to hide. Mercedes will cry in private remembering her family’s grief-stricken faces. She will sob in misery remembering how empty the August reunion was without Antoine there, yet another man she loved gone.

Then she’ll wipe her eyes and get back to work.

Mercedes wants to sing and be a star, but she also wants to be with people. She wants to have a community around her. She wants to build something good and make the world better. So she will. It’s what her family taught her.


End file.
